Debunking the Cost: The Power of a Name
by Late to the Party
Summary: Tired of not being taken seriously, our 'hero' speaks up for himself and decides to remind a certain personage with a certain offer of exactly who he is, where he came from, and the consequences of not giving him due diligence. Thus, we embark upon yet another AU – this time with more dialogue. One-shot.


**A/N: A reaction (action?) against not being taken seriously by the various NPCs – and here lies one of the worst contenders. Acknowledgement to Celamity for sparking this idea in part.**

* * *

**'Coo'**

"So let me get this straight," The young scholar reiterated calmly, "You expect me to pay you coin in exchange for services rendered instead of working with me when time is of the essence. You have enough wits about you to have spied upon my companion and you would use her suffering as a bargaining piece? Do you even know who I am?"

From beneath his cowled, split robes, he leaned in, Galen recoiling. "Allow me to give you my answer, 'friend'."

His hardened fingers did not brush against the sword strapped to his side, nor along the dagger that accompanied it. "This is Athkatla, city of coin, you say, where everything has a price. You will grant me what we have spoken of now, without delay, or I will cost the one you represent far more than your 'paltry fee'. Do we understand one another?"

Galen stammered.

A long, dramatic sigh, almost an eyeroll, as though he were instructing an especially slow student, just as some of his tutors back at home had done with him. "Do you know the power of a name, little man?"

Galen might not have been that little physically, but he was a small fish in a moderately large pond.

"Shall I explain what will happen if I unveil a name, raise up a banner? How many would flock to it, and what I would do with such a host? How much trade would be disrupted? Do not presume that you have any strength in these 'negotiations'. Do not insult me with your offers. By the time dusk falls, I will have my choice of ship, a fleet of ships if I so desire, and you will send a message to your master. It is up to you how we word that message: either we are quiet with minimal disruption to this hovel you call a city, or it shall be loud. I am not in the habit of repeating myself, so I shall make an exception only once: have we an accord?"

"I can't–"

"You can. You are authorised to negotiate. Now, give me your final word. No more dancing. Understand, if you will, exactly what I will do to retrieve those close to me. Understand the cost of those who stand in my way, the price for those who hinder me. There will be no stalling, none of this 'I can make you a better offer'; do not presume that you are some used cart seller and I have an interest, that I am a captive audience, oh no, you _will_ accept my terms or suffer the consequences. Last chance."

"A ship, ye say…" Galen did not quite stammer.

"With a crew. A loyal crew, discreet, unremarkable. Aid me and you will have my gratitude, a small price."

"Ye will not get far–"

"Greater men than you have thought the same. Greater men than you have fallen, blinded by their arrogance, and in their failure, I have taken the spoils. Now since you are so very reluctant, I shall reveal the power of a name. Perhaps that name means little here, but then again, this is the city of coin, and information is also a currency. Sarevok Anchev, son of Rieltar Anchev, of the Iron Throne. Ah, I see you are familiar with that name. Of course you are. I have treated with your kind in the Gate. You know who I am."

Eyes widening, Galen took a step back. "Ye are him…"

"What must I do to show your master the power of my name? Are my words really not enough?" He mused aloud. "Must I set examples wherever I go?" Those eyes snapped onto Galen, unblinking, "Shall I make an example out of you?"

"Ye disappeared–"

"Of course I did. What did you expect, that I'd what, serve the city of those fools? Become a puppet in the hands of lesser men who thought they could control me? A symbol and mouthpiece, dancing to someone else's tune? Does that really sound like me, sound like the tales they sing? Do not make the same mistake as Mulahey, as Tranzig, of Davaeron, of Tazok, Tamoko, Sarevok and Rieltar. Ah, yes, I see you have heard of those names too. Perhaps not Tranzig or Davaeron, but Tazok? Yes, him you have heard of. He, like you, believed he could stand against me, believed he could intimidate me.

"Did you think that while I instruct you, my allies are idle? You have eyes and ears of your own: where are they now? In the taverns, of course, and what do you think will happen when word of my name is uttered? That I am putting out a call for bannermen? You think that my apparent lack of funds will prevent me? It is my fame that is of worth, more than any picture on a metal disk. You need to understand that I will not be bound by anyone, not you, not your master; what hope could you possibly have when Sarevok himself, a son of Bhaal, could not contain me?

"What, you think that I wasn't aware we were being stalked? That I hadn't allowed it to occur? I wanted to disappear. And so we did. Now it is time for my return. So here is your choice, little man; serve me, or join those who have opposed me."

Very deliberately, he leaned back. "Tell me, 'friend Coo', what is the first law of disarming a trap? No? Knowing it is a trap is the first step in springing it. Really now, you disappoint me. Let me pose to you another question: where does the law end? The correct answer is: within the reach of my sword. Yes, you do understand. Finally, answer me this: since I have emerged, what was my first act before your mouthpiece reached me? 'Saving' the circus? Oh, no, no no: I was establishing myself, my legend. A child cried out for help and out of nowhere, a stranger stepped in, laid low the villainous gnome with his parlour magics, and freed the women, children, and menfolk held beneath his madness. You see, word is already spreading. Not even an hour; you have already cost me an hour. There, you see, all it took is for you to listen, and now we are able to work together. We are able to work together, aren't we, 'friend Coo'?"

"A-aye."

"Wonderful. Now I will sail on the noontide. I expect everything to be in order and readied by the time I reach the docks. And just out of curiosity; did you ever hear about Tranzig? No? Well, he, like Mulahey, thought to break our truce; oh yes, I offered him clemency, a way out. But he got greedy, mistook business for weakness. Mutual interest should govern all transactions but so few grasp that. Shall we simply say that handing him over to the Fist, as I handed Mulahey over to Nashkel's authorities, left him with a deep regret. I like to consider myself reasonable. But when others are not, what is one to do?"

With a half smile, he turned and strode from the dank hovel, accompanied by a hooded elf maiden, his newest companion. As they stepped into the filthy street crammed with overlapping structures, 'houses' too generous a word for them, he commented, "I believe that gives us the rest of this morning. Now, what was that you mentioned about slavers? You were brought through a tavern via a ship? Would you happen to know where this tavern is? Wonderful. Shall we, my dear?"

—

For once, it was good to be the one monologuing instead of listening to it. It was the first time he'd actually indulged himself. He had to admit, it was kind of fun. Unfortunately, it did somewhat negate his favourite saying: 'always kill the mouthy one'. Surely there was an idiom for this. Offering his arm, he patted the elf's slender hand when she hesitantly accepted. She had heard of him too, and while he didn't like to brag, sometimes speaking served a greater purpose than steel. Who was he kidding? It was always steel that backed up words.

"Oh, and you don't have to look at me like that. While everything I said is true," Eyes shining, he reached in, his lips hovering over her ear, "between you and me, it's better when someone else tells it. Since your face tells me you're unconvinced, here's what really happened. I did what I had to, and one thing led to another. It sounds like an excuse but when you are harried by foes who pursue you relentlessly, it does rather deprive one of agency. Reacting, acting, choice… sometimes we can only choose how to react, how to behave as we act. Your choice was to join with me; now we are visiting upon those who enslaved you and others. Taking a ship to find Imoen is reacting but it's also a choice. If we tarry here, the one holding her will visit hurt beyond measure upon her."

His gaze darkened, then lightened. "But since we have a moment, we can redress something of this terrible trade. The lengthening of my name is simply a by-product. And once we return… well, those we just entered into business with, 'friend Coo', let us simply say that this foul trade operates beneath their remit and they profit off of it. They are the authority of this city, one authority; the other visible authority, the governing body built up of nobles supported by the priesthoods, their knightly orders, and merchants, also undoubtedly gain from it, for these authorities treat with one another: mutual interests. That was something Sarevok held in contempt, perhaps our only common ground."

Aerie's eyes became as agates, her whole frame stiffening.

"That is precisely right, my dear. Such injustice is abhorrent and it is our choice whether to act or react. I believe we are of one mind on what is to be done."

She nodded once, firmly.

"Then we shall deal with the Tranzigs of this world as we encounter them, as they reveal their true nature but we? We must be greater. What is the first law in disarming a trap?"

Her fingers squeezed his forearm.

"And where does the 'law' end?"

Her grip tightened. He laid his hand over hers.

With that, they entered the Copper Coronet.

—

…Perhaps they would even procure a ship before Galen produced a vessel and crew. One thing was for certain: he had walked through a great deal of filth to even reach this point. There would be a great deal more muck caking the road ahead.

_Fin_.


End file.
